Blue and Brown Don't Match
by MarySuethor
Summary: Upon hearing the plea of a yet another teenager girl, the king of goblins decides to take her in as a queen for his kingdom. Rated for language and talk about drug abuse.
1. So It Begins

"To fear...to love..." Sarah absently caressed her own lips. Was that possible? To love a person you feared?

After years and years, the Goblin King's last words had never left her. During her marital vows, during sex, during her baby brother's funeral, during the surgery that had her fallopian tubes tied off, during her mother's big movie premiere, during the best and worst times of her life thus far.

Fear him. Love him. Do as he says and he will be your slave. Those eyes of blue and brown mocked her, fed her, saw her. She scoffed, and threw down the novel she's been attempting to read. On the other half of the mattress, Matthew stirred.

"Mmm...honey?" he groaned, adjusting his pillow with a lazy arm. "You okay?"

She felt like screaming _no_, that she hadn't been okay since they'd married, but remained silent. He wouldn't care, she predicted. Strained awkward moments later, he was asleep again. Sleep. Eternal sleep.

Her mind leapt to Toby, her sweet angel. At age 13, he'd been taken away from a world of pain and leukemia in his sleep. Such a tragedy had broken up the Williamses, as expected. Sarah doubted that Karen and George Williams were awake at this hour, as her thoughts drifted to them. Middle-age had taken its toll on George long ago, and salt-and-pepper hair was nearly gone. His large green eyes (Sarah's own eyes) constantly shone with age and that _worry_ that overtook him. _How was she? Had she heard from her mother Linda lately? How was Matthew?_

These questions didn't make Sarah uncomfortable, per se. When they were asked, her lips would become ever-so-heavy and impossible to budge. _She was fine, no, and he was plain old Matthew. _

Sarah gingerly lifted the flowered bedcover off herself and tossed it onto her slumbering husband, who snorted. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up.

It was at this hour that the Goblin King with the strange eyes had taken Toby those 12 years ago, she mused as she stared at the face of Matthew's favorite grandfather clock. _Did he really exist? _she'd always wondered. _Did the labyrinth even exist? _

Hoggle, her goblin friend she'd made on her journey to save her brother, had stopped visiting promptly after her 18th birthday. She'd assumed he'd always been a figment of her imagination and that was that. Simplicity was her preferred reality, whch ultimately was her downfall. Sarah had no proof that any of her adventure had actually occurred, which saddened her. The entire ordeal was a large fraction of memories of her brother, and she wasn't quite sure if _they were real._ Shoving her bare feet into a plain pair of house slippers, she padded around the apartment with no intention of doing anything but slipping into the nightly shadows and remembering.

The plea came in the hoarsest of whispers, so small that Jareth's hypersensitive hearing almost missed it. The request itself was far enough from trivial for him to consider. The idea of such a thing intrigued the Goblin King, to say the least. He considered it in his throne room, a place of pandemonium and disorder. Why he used it to meditate over his most important decisions was a mystery to his subjects, but Jareth had to have his reasons.

Indeed he did.

His favorite riding crop tapped against his knee-high boots as he lounged in the impressive raised stone jutting from the floor. He hummed a little, recalling his failure to gain an heir 15 seasons ago. "Toby," he muttered with a slight arrogant smile. The meddling girl who'd won at his game had managed to save the youngling briefly. A mortal's disease had brought him back quite a few moon phases ago.

Toby was a special case, Jareth would readily admit. An angel of the Underground, in fact. Few humans visited the kingdom. _Very_ few came to stay permanently after death. It was a matter of the ability to see things that weren't exactly there. In normal circumstances, for example, a mortal had trouble seeing the labyrinth and Jareth's glorious castle for more than a handful of hours. With people like Sarah and Toby...well, the possibilities were limitless.

At any rate, if the girl this plea had come from had the same capability as Toby, perhaps he'd have a progenator for his heir. Potentially a mate and wife. This idea was rather fascinating, as it was rare for a king of the goblins to actually produce an heir. Most kidnapped a human youngling for _that._ He rubbed his chin. Maybe...his bloodline would continue on throughout the ages...Hmmm...

"Yer majesty! Yer majesty!" A small hooknosed goblin slid to a halt in front of his chair where he lay, obviously in a frizzy.

"What is it?" he asked exasperatedly. These ugly hounds were always in need of _his_ help. Honestly, over every menial thing...

"The Queen of the Fairies is 'ere to see yeh!" The goblin squeeked.

He groaned inwardly, and sat up. "I'll be with Slatia in a moment," he snapped, and brushed his breeches off. He then left the room with a whish of billowing capes. The look of despair on his face spoke volumes as he strode down a corridor.

"That woman..." He sighed, and entered his bedroom to change his ensemble. The cape was a bit too seductive for a meeting with _her_, and a change of blouse was in order. He chose a creamy peasant blouse, and mused over its similarity to Sarah's blouse the first time they'd met.

Slatia was a bit...friendly with Jareth each time they met together, and frightened him to an extent. She was a fae, the same as his people, but he was _never_ in a comfortable way around her at all. But because of their high positions of power, he was under obligation to meet with her whenever a crisis occurred, or really any time she felt like it. _The whimsical little tart..._

"Jareth!"

"Slatia my dear, how are you?" he drawled, hooking elbows with her and crossing the courtyard just outside the castle's walls.

The fairy looked absolutely delighted, and sort of...like a youngling, really. Her long silver hair was up in an elegant bun, complimented by a glamorous emerald brooch. Her velvet dress that delicately slid on the floor behind her steps was of a lovely deep maroon. It matched her glowing orbs commonly referred to as eyes.

"Oh, the usual," she bubbled. "Marigold is quite the dear and has begun her lessons! She can already recite the alphabet!"

Memory told him that Marigold was her only youngling. The Goblin King's bottom lip curled with distaste, which he hurriedly covered up with a leather-gloved hand and faked a yawn. "Ah, I see," he murmured. "That's wonderful." Memory also whispered of the time Marigold had trampled upon his rose garden just outside these walls. _Delightful little child..._

"It's a miracle, is what her instructor has told me. Ever since King Oklas died..." Slatia trailed off, and brought her other arm to cling to his, as if frightened. He frowned at the gesture, and inconspicuously caused several huts in the goblin village to collapse.

"Allow me again to offer my sympathies at your loss, " he said smoothly. The passing of the King of Fairies had been a big-to-do several seasons ago, at the Battle of Casail, one of the bordering nations in the east. How he'd rued the day!

Slatia nodded as she attempted to intently gaze into his eyes. Jareth wouldn't allow it, shifting his mismatched eyes to watch a bird soar through the golden sky. It's plumage was quite an impressive display of rouge and orange, with its long-feathered tail leaving a trail of fire. _A phoenix_, he mused.

"Excuse me, madam," a polite voice said firmly. "I need to speak to his majesty in private."

Jareth jerked his head around to see Toby lazily picking the seeds off of a dandelion as he slouched against a tall oak. The boy was _small_. Only about 5"1 and 100 pounds at the most, he certainly did not project the image of a powerful force to be reckoned with.

"Oh, poo. Tobyyyyy," she purred. "You're so cute! Look how much your hair has curled!" Indeed it had. The teenager's thick mane of blonde hair had spun into hundreds of gold rings framing his face.

The youngling smiled, and hopped up to come bounding over. "You're too kind, Queen Slatia." He offered her his hand, and she obliged by placing her own in it. He brought the fae's digits to his lips, and placed a gentle kiss upon them. She giggled. Jareth watched this placidly, with calculating eyes.

"I mean what I said, Miss, " Toby insisted. "But I will only take your king for a few minutes. Then he's yours."

"Alright, " Slatia agreed with a pat on his head. "I'll be in the corridor if you need me!" And with that she sauntered away from the courtyard, leaving the two males to eachother.

Jareth spoke first. "You've become quite the Casanova."

"Learned it from the best, chief."

"What exactly did you want, my friend?" This kind of playful banter was common between them, but the king sensed a feeling of anxiety within the boy.

Toby grasped the older man's gloved hand in his own. An intimate sort of gesture. "I need to know if you plan to answer that girl's plea," he said gravely, staring into the mismatched eyes with his own blue orbs.

The king raised a quizical eyebrow. "Ah, would it be bad if I chose to do so?" he questioned, massaging the boy's hand with his fingers. "She has asked me to take her. To 'take her from her hellish nightmare,' I believe her words were." Toby's eyes squinted, and he reached up to pat a hand onto the king's moon-like blonde head.

"You know better than I that she wasn't...right with that pleading," he said sternly for a 13 year old. "She was under the influence of bad stuff." Jareth looked innocent. "You can't just take her from the Aboveground because of a thing like that!"

Ah, how this youngling was wise, Jareth thought bemusedly. "Alright, my pet. I shall consider your case." The golden sky was fading with the night; into a blackness that he knew his surrogate youngling despised. "For now, we're due to step inside for a visit with dear Slatia, are we not?"


	2. Awaken

She was there, at the castle the next day, to Toby's dismay. Resting in one of the guest rooms nearby his own. The girl was not too much older than he; 15 or 16, maybe. Her face was deeply sunken in; creating the effect of bulging eye sockets of black; that was either bruises or lack of sleep, Toby decided. Her hair was very thick and very red...with large shiney ringlets curling around her gaunt face, she almost looked like a dead body...he shivered.

The bones in her slender neck were prominent, at best. He preferred to refer to it as jutting; tiny bird-like bones trying to escape from under the skin, only managing to frighten onlookers. The girl was very small, judging by her head and the slight impression she made under the sheets. He was small himself. This gave Toby a mingling sense of pride and worry. Was the smallness an after-effect of substance abuse for the girl?

Toby jerked around to find his older male friend amusedly watching him, leaning on a shoulder against the stone wall. He blushed slightly, still always surprised to see how attractive and otherworldly the King's look was. Physically medium-build with a slim waist always insinuated by tight leather and hair almost the color of the moon; just as glowing somedays. There were also his mischeivous mismatched eyes to consider about him.

"I see you've discovered our young guest," Jareth said casually. "What do you think of her?"

"Well..." the mortal started slowly. "She's sort of...pretty...but she looks like she's lost and hurt somehow. It's hard to tell since she's asleep, but I can feel it. She's hurting."

The Goblin King wasn't so foolish as to reply that she indeed looked beat up: he knew the boy meant a deeper pain than skin. An inner aching that he himself knew so well. "That's to be seen. The girl is not to wake for a time."

Toby looked troubled, and rubbed an awkwardly delicate hand in his nest of golden curls. "That's just it, Jareth! You call her a kid still; a girl, when the both of us know exactly of your intentions!" he exclaimed. "It's not right! Do you really believe that whisking her away from the Aboveground and then forcing her to be your bride is the best plan of action?"

Jareth waved a gloved hand dismissively. "Oh, calm down. I'm not so inept as to expect things to work out _that_ smoothly," he replied. "There will be a time of courting; and an assigned time of getting to know another. She will come to enjoy this world; and love it. I have no doubts about that."

The girl sighed, alerting both males and causing them to jump a little and stare hard at her, almost expecting animation. When there was nothing, Toby heaved a collective sigh of relief. He wasn't quite up to dealing with a full-grown Wished Away. The teen imagined heartbreak, grief, even anger.

His own reaction to his death.

"Let's go on to breakfast, shall we? I believe Cook has prepared that revolting French toast you enjoy so much," drawled Jareth, with an effective yawn.

The youth smiled at his pal's attempt to rile him up. "You know I'm thinking about it, huh?" The king looked apprehensive. "Nah, I'm not going to flip out today...just thinkin', that's all." He grabbed Jareth's leather-covered hand and directed him down the corridor. Breakfast sounded pretty good about now.

--------

_"Toby!" giggled Karen, as her only biological child flailed his chubby arms about in the bath, flinging soad suds around the entire room. "The water is for cleaning, not splashy-washy!" _

_The toddler laughed, and tugged at his mother's short mousy brown hair. "Mama!" _

_"That's right, Toby-woby!" She cooed, tickling his naked sides. "Mama wuvs you, yes she does!"_

_---------_

"...fuuuuck."

What the hell! She'd just disposed of that last syringe...and now she was laying in a silken bed in the most elegant room she'd ever been in. The sheets covering her body were deep purple silk, with matching pillows soft to the touch that'd just been caressing her auburn hair. There was an antique dresser with more drawers than she cared to count against the stone wall surrounded by portraits of a strange man in tights. The huge window to the east was completely covered by draperies that matched the sheets.

Had she been selling herself again? Did she get _that_ wasted? She felt nervous at the thought of a bald sweaty old guy traipsing into the room at any moment, demanding to perform anal sex or something. Better book it, girl.

She threw the covers off of her body, and was relieved to find herself fully clothed in a tank top and grey sweatpants. So maybe nothing had penetrated her, in her blacked-out state? One could only hope. The girl swung her skinny legs over the side of the bed and felt the cold stone floor with bare toes. Ugh, better book it faster.

The door was unlocked, so she slowly cracked it open inch by inch, keeping an eye out for anyone. There was a giant hallway with the same stone walls out there. It was empty, except for those goofy portraits of the dude in tights. Which was just as well, because the teen couldn't imagine walking the hallway alone without anything remotely resembling a human to be comforted by.

It was light out, so that meant morning, right? _Sun light_, she hoped as she wandered down the corridor without the slightest clue how to leave this mansion-type place.


	3. Blue and Brown Don't Match

A goblin's shouting alerted the two males of her awakened state. Toby and Jareth had been enjoying plates of toast when the sound had interrupted their breakfast. The king apparated from the dining hall into the East Wing corridor in a split second only to discover the girl leaning against a stone corner in terror while being reprimanded by a stout female goblin. Pieces of ceramic cups lay about the floor along with a metal tray.

"Watches where you's going, missy!" warned the goblin a final time before fleeing the scene with broken cups in tow.

Jareth looked to the girl. Her green eyes were wide, insinuating a cherubic face he found rather attractive. Her hair fell in auburn curls around her face just as it had when she'd been sleeping, but with more life to it. Why, if she were a bit heavier she could be beautiful. He'd be sure to have Cook fatten his future queen quickly.

"What the FUCK!" she cried in a hoarse voice similar to the plea he'd heard the night before. "What the HELL WAS THAT! Who the fuck are you, man! Where am I!" The king flinched at the excessive use of expletives but decided not to comment on them. There'd be time to work that out of her vocabulary later.

"You are in the Underground, my dear." He swooped in to whisk her into his arms, and she pushed him back with such force he nearly stumbled. There was strength in those scrawny arms.

Toby showed up with a slice of French toast. "Toast?" he offered her, making sure to stand back a good distance so's not to disturb her personal space in any way as the demonstration with Jareth had shown she disliked that very, very much. "You gotta be hungry." He dangled it. The girl stared at him, and he knew immediately that she was recognizing him as a human kid like herself. She moved forward slightly, leaving the corner. Jareth still stood back with hurt pride and watched curiously.

"Am I dead?" she asked point blank. Toby shook his head. "Then what?"

"You're here and there simultaneously," answered Jareth shortly. "You asked to be brought to my kingdom and I obliged. You are in debt to me." The blonde youngling shot him a disapproving glance. He ignored it. "So stop being the impudent wench and allow me to introduce myself."

The girl watched with a passive expression upon her face. "Go on."

"This is the nation of goblins. This castle is my own. I am King Jareth of the Goblins. You are in a world called the Underground. From now on, it's your home as well as mine."

She seemed to be soaking the information in for a moment before nodding. The king was mildly surprised of such quick acceptance. "I see."

"My name's Toby," explained the blonde teen. "I'm human like you." She nodded.

"I thought so. But he- " she gave a jerk of her head towards Jareth, "Looks different." Her voice was becoming stronger with every word. It was quick and prim, like a schoolteacher's. Her green eyes were analyzing and knowing. "My name's Terry."

The king of goblins nodded. She was staring at him now, finally noticing his beauty. He was somewhat vain about his looks, but it didn't matter. As a king he was allowed to be. The new youngling was taken by him, he was certain.

"Blue and brown don't match," Terry commented with little emotion in her voice. Toby chuckled appreciatively.

"Yes yes," said Jareth impatiently, masking his disappointment. "Now, regarding this." He snatched up her arm and rubbed the marks upon her veins with his rough thumbs. The girl pulled back on reflex.

"Don't touch me!" The king moved forward and pressed his body against hers.

Toby felt his ears flush and hurriedly left the corridor. This wasn't his business really...maybe Cook needed help in the kitchens...

Jareth had her small face cupped in his hands, with her delectible lips so easy to take in his own. "I do not condone drug use here in the Underground from anyone, including you love. Understood?" Her mossy eyes searched his mismatched ones, and he willed himself to look more serious than he felt at the moment. "You will feel withdrawals, of course, and I will be by your side to carry you through them. There will be no more pain."

She frowned into his pointed face so solemnly he felt it right to protect her for the rest of her mortal life. "All right King Jareth. You'll have your way," she sneered. The king released her face and swept his cape around her shoulders.

"That should keep you warm until the royal tailors are able to present you with more suitable clothes to the land's climate. Are you hungry?" he asked calmly. "Cook has whipped up French toast for Toby and I daresay there's plenty left for a young ravenous woman."

Terry gave him a contemptuous look to match all looks. "I'm not ravenous. Barely even hungry." With that her stomach lurched with a low growl. "..."

Jareth smiled. "I see. Well, shall we head to the kitchens love?"

"...Fine...But stop calling me that! I'm not your love!" she added fiercely. "So get it out of your head!"

"Sorry darling. Force of habit."

"Argh!"

He led her to the dining hall, where they sat at the long royal table side by side, he in his throne and her in a straight-backed wooden chair. Many servants were bustling about preparing food for that night's feast, carrying ingredients to Cook and stopping along the way to peer at the "royal couple." Terry was furiously attacking pieces of toast and crunching quite loud. Jareth was silently grateful that she didn't chew with her mouth open, as he loathed that disgusting habit.

Toby was no where to be seen. The king had the sneaking suspicion that he knew where they were anyhow, and was down in the villages. The child loved speaking to commonfolk and wandering around the huts. Often he came home with old crafts made by goblins that he'd traded something of his own for, usually an expensive gift from Jareth himself. It was all in good fun though, so he almost always let it pass. How this new resident would behave in the Underground was an interesting question in itself. Would she try to find narcotics? A futile mission, as all mind-altering substances had been outlawed back in the days of King Zacharias' rule. No doubt that any creature she asked would report immediately to the king, lest they be punished.

"Terry..." he said slowly. The girl glanced up from her plate questioningly. He shook his head. "I don't believe I like that. I shall call you something else."

"My parents used to call me that when I was little," she protested. "That's what everyone calls me!"

He waved his riding crop into the air dismissively. "Not anymore. I think you'll find yourself taking on a new persona in the Underground. Now, what shall we call you?" He put a finger to his chin teasingly. "How about something sweet, like Reesa? Or Bella?" She made a face. "Hmm...something ethereal, to go with your lovely eyes... Or maybe birdlike, to match your physique."

The mortal frowned into her plate and shoved it aside suddenly. She stood from her chair and backed away. "Enough with the flirting...I don't want to - To be your play thing. I don't want to be anyone's play thing ever again! I hated it!" Her mossy eyes shined. "Being a whore- a crack whore! I never wanted it!" Her lips trembled, the bones in her neck shifted. "Do you think I wanted it! The drugs, the sex, the isolation from everyone? It was like being in a cage- a dirty, fucking cage! And you're no better than any of it. You just want to cage me up in this place to be your whore. Your play thing!"

Jareth blinked at this sudden rush of words and was immediately at her side. He took her arm and pulled her into his body; folding his own arms around her like a spider. "Shh," he shushed her and rocked her gently. "It's alright love, it's alright. You aren't my play thing, and you're definitely not my whore. You're my little queen. My Queen Kestreal," he said, testing out her new name.

"Don't touch me," she said in a quivering voice. "I don't want you to touch me."

"Kestreal," he said again.

"Please..." The king released her, and took off on his heels to his room without another glance back. He wouldn't be jerked around like this, even by her.

Terry - No, Kestreal sat down again, her knees turned to water. What did she just say? The truth, she decided. Long ago her life had taken a turn for the worst and she'd admitted her grievance to no one but herself before now. Now Jareth knew. He knew her more than anyone. "Get real," she muttered aloud. They'd just met! But his eyes could see more of her than anyone. Those blue and brown orbs of his were omniscient.

She wanted the needle so badly. Her veins screamed for sustenance and relief. Her nose was burning for lines. Her lungs begged for canabis. Oh god, how far gone was she?

"You'll be okay, Kestreal." Toby was suddenly there, behind her chair. He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I know it seems rough right now, but you'll be okay."

Toby knew everything too, she realized. There was nothing she'd be able to hide in this castle. This kingdom. Was this the end of the line?


	4. Troubles

"You've had plenty of other lovers, my lord," insisted his royal advisor Rosin, a rather hooknosed stocky goblin. "What makes this new woman so different?" They were having a confidential chat in the royal bedchambers. Jareth sat upon the green canopy bed while Rosin was settled in a wooden chair identical to the ones in the dining hall.

The king hadn't meant to call on his advisor this early in the day but...he'd been unable to contain his fury at the direction matters were going in. The girl's spirit wasn't meant to be so fiery! Her eyes weren't supposed to see him this way. She wasn't supposed to control his emotions so.

And yes, he'd had many lovers over the centuries of ruling the kingdom. Elven and human alike, all sharing his bed for unnumbered nights. They'd been for physical pleasure of course! They hadn't stuck around long enough for him to notice even their names at times. But this girl was for queenship. For obscure reasons even to himself, he wanted her for the long run. Hell, she'd been here for less than a fortnight and already he'd grown a certain attachment to her he couldn't identify. No, he didn't know what made her different.

He told Rosin so. The goblin clucked his tongue and made a small note on his miniscule notepad. The goblin king briefly wondered what he'd written but didn't press the matter. He didn't really care.

With some trepidation, Jareth sent the advisor away and studied his future mate's activity in a crystal ball. Kestreal was in her room now, slumbering. Did she really need that much sleep? This worried him slightly, but he shoved that thought to the bottom of his mind. There were bigger fish to fry. He looked for Toby. The youngling was wandering the bank of the creek just outside the palace. Alright, good. Both were safe. Now he could take to the sky.

The king assumed his owl form and floated off into the distance, ready for trouble.

The elven kingdom was bubbling over the proverbial pot with anger. Their ample land was becoming more and more sought after for the troll race, a group of large, stupid creatures that thought with their weapons rather than peanut-shaped brains. Jareth felt for them, he really did, but asking for assistance in this ridiculous war of theirs was simply too much. His people were a simple race themselves; violent, yes, but simple! They were small, were they not? Why would clever beings such as elves expect small goblins to be a great asset to an army?

Jareth was being a bit of a voyeur that afternoon by flying over the Elven Palace in the great country of Casail and viewing the gathering army. The entire castle of elven legend was built from the earth itself, supposedly preserving magical properties useful to rituals. A huge crowd of elf and fairy (_why?_) alike gathered 'round the High Platform before the palace. An impressive bunch, he admitted. The creatures were similar in appearance and definitely lovely on all counts of the word: tall, slender, pointed and pale. It seemed an unwritten law that all had to had soft voices and long silken hair. He could hear them speaking with his keen hearing and listened in.

"Listen all!" called a raven haired elf Jareth recognized as a military leader by the name of Kursor. "The goblin fiends have refused our requests for the final time! Tomorrow we invade their territory and seek out army hands by force!"

The crowd of beautiful persons cheered rather loudly for a sentient race, the king thought. An aging female elf sent a series of golden sparks into the sky, nearly roasting the goblin but succeeding in singeing tail feathers. He made a mental note to seek avengeance for that on a later date.

"Ahem," purred a high, flaughty voice that he vaguely recognized. "My people are glad to assist in capture of the fae traitor, King Jareth, using any means necessary. He is a blood traitor to us all!" The king wondered what personal wrong he had done to this particular female, and looked to find the owner of the voice.

It was Slatia.

Her maroon eyes shone with an unfamiliar emotion that afternoon that barely veiled her "sweet" disposition. The Fairy Queen was working against him with the elves. How quaint. Inside, Jareth was fuming. Not for being tricked really, but for the fact he hadn't picked up on it! The slag! _I'll bet you fancy yourself welcome in my kingdom the next time you pop in for a visit, _he thought nastily, glaring at the fae. _I'm sure you'll find yourself without a head instead. _


End file.
